Will of the Shadows
by AskTalon
Summary: A cold blooded assassin takes an unlikely and unwilling person as his apprentice. Rated M for blood / gore / sex Chapter up soon.
1. Distractions can be Painful

The silence of the room was broken by a painful grunt and a loud clash, the sound of an armored body hitting the floor, and frantic footsteps echoing down a hallway. "Don't run, you're just making things more difficult for the both of us..." With a sigh the shadowy figure faded from view to follow his quarry once more. The ruins of Silvermoon were inhabited by many of the wretched, once elves. but malformed by their addiction to the arcane. Forlorne followed his prey with the skill of a master , quietly eliminating any of the wretched that made a move after his target, knowing it would bode ill if she was killed before he got his chance.

The night was young when as he watched her duck into an abandoned building through his spyglass, and he smiled under his mask, knowing there was no way for her to escape him now. From his perch on an old balcony, he could see across a large portion of the ruins of Silvermoon, the groups of wretched, huddled around remnants of their former lives. The Arcane Guardians that blood elves so often used as the tireless protectors of their city, now husks burnt out by the energies of the Sunwell. Much of what was once a beautiful city had become decaying ruins, mostly uninhabited by civilization, the perfect place for an assassin to practice his craft.

Forlorne smiled under his mask as he spread tarnish on his blades, recalling how his teacher always told him "The best of plans have been ruined by the glint of a blade from the shadows". A shard of a broken mirror gave a glimpse of the master assassin, his mask and hood, enchanted to give the appearance of glowing red eyes, an extra set of daggers strapped to his shoulders, the enchanted armor that seemed to absorb the light falling upon it, as well as the fingerless gloves, four blades running along the back of the hands. Jumping from the balcony to the path below, hardly making a sound, he began the trek across the courtyard, eyes locked on the building his prey was hiding in.

Arilea was terrified, the Master told her to take a package to a building in the ruins. The package was heavy, and for some reason, the Master sent a bloodknight bodyguard with her. The walk to the building was uneventful enough, not even one single wretched was spotted along the way. The sun was just setting as she walked into the building, her guard taking up position to protect his charge. The inside of the building was dark and dank, ripe with the decay of a house unloved. Few of the blue glowing crystals remained alight inside after the years of disuse. With no one to care for it the wretched had taken to using the building as a place to defecate and urinate, and the smell hung heavy in the air. Covering her face with a cloth, the servant girl walked deeper into the building towards the room that the meeting was to take place in, the package held tight in her arms. At the end of the corridor was the room she was to meet the recipient of the package, it was large and spacious, oddly clean compared to the rest of the building, the stench seemed to not invade this space. Pausing at the doorway, taking a deep breath trying to steady her nerves, her master's warning running through her head, with a single hesitant step she crossed the threshold of the room and was instantly greeted by a calm, calculating voice, one that sent shivers of dread down her spine.

"Th.. the Ma..master sent me to deliver your pa..payment" Arilea stuttered "Sir" she added in quickly.

"How much?" the voice asked, causing her to jump, looking for the source. "Five hundred gold... In bars" she eeked out in a meek voice, kneeling down and setting a small, but heavy lock box on the ground in front of her. As Arilea stood again, her eyes locked to two crimson orbs a few paces away from her. "Five hundred? That wasn't the price that was agreed on. The masked and cowled figure started to pace for a few moments, deep in thought about his next course of action. An armed bloodknight, a decent challenge, and an unarmed servant girl. Hardly worth killing. He stopped pacing, his eyes following the curves of the servant girl, she was rather attractive.

"It would be a shame to have to kill her" he thought, "So tell me... Why should I let his bed toy and lapdog return intact? When your master dares to try and screw me." the voice hissed, full of spite and malice. Arilea quickly looked away as the rogue stepped towards her, flinching at his touch. Turning her chin to once more look into her eyes, leaning in close to her, "Or were you meant to be the rest of my payment?", spoken in a soft voice, the implication her master had sold her for the services of an assassin. With thoughts of the betrayal of her master and what this new man might do to her, Arilea blushed deeply ad began to tremble with fear.

Focused on his payment and the slender elf delivering it, Forlorne had let his guard down, and her guard had taken care to exploit the opening. Swinging his sword in a high arc that ended with the satisfying feeling of blade biting flesh as it deep into the rogue's back, from shoulder to waist, a deep crimson pool expanding from the crumpled body on the floor. The a smirk spread across the face of the bloodknight, his blade turned downward with blood dripping off the end.

"That gold... Is my payment you fool" the bloodknight stated with manic laughter. "My payment for killing you, -and- that loose end" he swung his sword upwards, pointing the bloodied tip at the servant girl with a look of disgust on is face. "To even think that a low class worm would ever be in the Master's bed. Insulting! The highest this peasant could ever achieve would still have her on her knees", a sadistic grin crossed his face as he stepped over the body of the rogue. "Not that it matters", he added as he readied his sword for another swing, "She wont become anything other than food for the maggots now".

With a grunt he brought the blade down, aiming for the other elf's neck. Forlorne reacted faster than he should have been able to, fel smoke rose from his back, his severed spine and muscles rapidly regenerating as he stood. With one fluid motion he drew his dagger and sliced deep into the inside of the bloodknight's elbow, cutting the tendons and causing the sword fly out of his hand mid-swing, glancing the servant's shoulder before clattering to the ground. Forlorne grabbed the bloodknight be the neck, twisting his head back and to the side, slitting the bastard's throat from ear to ear, gushing blood covering the servant girl as the blade bit down through flesh to bone, a sickening crack echoing through the room as Forlorne snapping his victim's neck before letting the broken body crumple to the floor, hardly in one piece. Cracking his neck as he looked up from the body only t see the bloodied servant girl fleeing in terror. Taking a pained breath he called after her "Don't run, you're just making things more difficult for the both of us..."

The the blood elf still hadn't awakened, her wound hadn't been a serious one, but much to the rogue's ire, her shoulder didn't stop bleeding for quite some time. Turning down the lantern after changing the bandage for the third time, he walked across the small run down cabin he had been using as a safe house for the last few weeks of his contract to eliminate the competition of another noble. Settling down at a decrepit desk he began to clean and oil his daggers, scraping off the caked blood . "Blood Knights", he sighed, "Always so dramatic when they die, bleeding all over the place". The stink of fel magics still arose from the weapons, liberated from their former masters, members of the Burning Legion who had gone out of their way to anger Nexus Prince Haramad. Grinning, Forlorne pulled off his mask and cowl for the first time in days and unstrapped what was left intact of his armor. The shoulders and tunic of what was once a very expensive set of assassination armor were now damaged beyond repair, along with one of his favorite silk shirts.

The night before a shipment had arrived at the little shack, a delayed "special" order from an ethereal named Latro. Attached to the crate was a note reading "Crafted to the only specifications you gave, Two swords, as light as daggers. Forlorne couldn't help but feel like a child the night before Winter Veil as he read on. "The first sword... Blinkstrike, crafted with the essence of a bronze dragon, and the second, the Shifting Sword, crafted from the lightest alloys in the Twisting Nether. Both paid for by the Nexus Prince as payment for your services rendered". The swords were huge for one handed weapons, four feet long and six inches deep. Giving the blades a few short practice swings, he set them off to the side, pulling out the straw used to pack the swords, Forlorne sought the real prize. A full set of Deathmantle armor, smuggled from the Scryers Tier of Shattrath City. Past all the factional guards and the Peacekeepers, Forlorne's contact could sneak anything through the city, Although he wouldn't have been surprised if she had just let it slip that her buyer was willing to pay anything for it. Valenxia had been know to take advantage of him like that, taking his coin purse for a ride.

Stripping out of the rest of his blood soaked clothing and into the new Deathmantle the difference between the armor was immediate. Made for heavier and more aggressive combat, it didn't hinder the range of motion of the wearer, how ever in place of daggers strapped to the shoulders, there were four very sharp fixed blades. Forlorne cursed loudly when his reflexes betrayed him., the door was suddenly kicked in by a paladin clad in black judgment armor, trimmed with silver. With one word of power, the paladin froze him in his tracks. Repent.

A white mist swirled around Forlorne, enveloping his senses. Appearing from the mists came two shades of himself, one wearing the purest of whites, the other in dark crimson. "So you are here to finally repent for your actions Forlorne?" the white shade asked in a light, almost angelic voice.

"Repent? For what? Who the hell are you two anyway and why the hell and I here?

"I am your shoulder devil, and this prick is your shoulder angel. The light and dark sides of your soul" The devil spoke with an apathetic voice.

"Wait, if you are my shoulder devil, and shoulder angel... Why aren't you on my shoulders?"

"Well..." the angel began, "We don't actually exist, this is just a state of meditation the paladin that's standing at the door forced you into.

Forlorne's not so helpful meditation was interrupted by the feeling of someone biting his lip.

With a start he broke from the repentance and stepped back instinctively, wiping his bleeding lip as his eyes focused on the assailant. She was equal in height, long raven hair contrasting sharply with her light peach skin. She grinned wickedly as she licked his blood off her ebon lips. "It's been a long time since we last me Forlorne." her voice was silky and seductive.

"Shedala Wishwind...Why is it whenever we meet, I always end up with a headache and bleeding?"

The paladin sauntered up to him and kissed him deeply, running her tongue across his lips. "Mmmm... I can taste the fel magic on your blood" She looked at the other elf unconscious in the bed and started to pout. "To bad you don't have an empty bed... I'd make that headache of yours disappear...

The elf took the chair at the desk and eyed the girl in the bed. "So what's with this one? Why did you help her?

Forlorne sheathed his daggers to his waist and pulled on his mask an cowl as the slumbering figure stirred.

"I think I found my apprentice..."


	2. Blades and Blood Elves

Arilea's primary training flew by in a blink of an eye, until Forlorne found himself taking her to the sight of her first assignment. Garron wasn't handsome by orc standards, or anyone's standards, but for some reason a blond elf kept looking over to him in the tavern, giving him a sly wink whenever they locked eyes. She was wearing a crimson dress, her full seductive lips the same shade. he ordered a pair of the Black Rose's strongest ale and walked over to the dark table where she sat. The blood elf smiled as the accepted the drink and winked over the rim of the tankard at the battle scarred orc. Garron returned a wide grin, several of his teeth missing from his mouth. The crimson clad elf ran her hand up Garron's arm with a wry smile, "Lucky day for you. I've been lonely for a few days, and I just happen to like my men big," she looked over the scars the orc bore, "And experienced".

For a while the two flirted, until their drinks were empty and began to make their way up the stairs to the rooms above. The elf fumbled with the key to the room as he pushed against her, kissing and biting her slender neck, her moans arousing him more and more. For Garron it seemed like ages for her to get the door open. clothes were tossed left and right as the two made their way to the bed, Garron laid on his back with the elf straddling and grinding against him in her sheer black lingerie, he closed his eyes for a moment of pleasure, and that was the last thing he did before a dagger pierced his heart.

There she stood in sheer black lingerie, a long slender dagger in her hand, dripping the crimson blood of her victim. Her eyes gazed upon the body on the bed before her. A one eyed orc lay there half naked, a bulge still in his pants even though much of his blood was soaking into the linen sheets of the inn. Arilea's eyes scanned over her target, then down to the bloody weapon in her slender hand. Bringing the blade near her face she considered licking the blood off it. Something about it seemed to draw her in, the deep crimson color matching her lipstick. Arilea was snapped out of her trance by the creaking of a door opening behind her. In an instant she turned and hurled the dagger at the door, aiming to impale the person walking into the room.

A handsome human walked into the room. Clean shaven with short black hair, he walked hardly making a sound with each step, clad in black armor with long spikes adorning the shoulders and a pair of daggers at his hip. Forlorne flinched as he opened the door, a cry of protest coming form the aged hinges. With unnatural reflexes he batted a dagger out of the air. "Are you going to do that whenever I walk into the room Apprentice?" He eyed his apprentice, the black corset she wore contrasted sharply with her peach skin.

Arilea gasped and bowed her head awaiting for a blow to land. "No Master, it will not happen again" She flinched when his hand touched her chin, lifting her head to look her in the eye. "I'm not your previous master Arilea. I'm not going to strike you." He took her hand and turned it over, placing a hefty sack in her hand. "your payment for the job. one hundred and fifty gold."

"But the job was for only that much. Why are you giving it all to me?" Arilea asked, her head cocked to one side.

Forlorne just smiled at her, one of the few times she had seen her new master smile, and the first true, honest smile. "it's a tradition among assassins for the first kill" He gave a small approving nod to her, "And you performed a perfect kill. You got the target alone without arousing suspicion, and dispatched it without a sound." Arilea blushed at the praise of her master. Outside, Arilea's crimson dress fluttered in the breeze as she waited for Forlorne to bring their mounts around. The sunlight warmed her skin, and the breeze teased her body. She had closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the day washing across her, then suddenly something hit the back of her head hard, Arilea slid to the ground, her own blood covering dripping from where she had be struck. As the darkness began to take her, the sounds of footsteps reached her ears. With what little strength Arilea had left, she turned her head to the direction of the sound the best she could, blinding pain shooting from her ear, where she once wore the one gift she received until it was torn away, straining to focus her dimming eyes, but as hard as she tried, the darkness took her faster. The last thing she felt was a pair of arms cradling her broken body.

Every fiber of her being screamed in pain as she began to stir. The bed she lay on was illuminated by a single ray of sunlight from a window high in the stone room, the warmth splashing her face. Arilea cringed, throwing up her arms to block the light as memories of what happened flooded her mind. Groaning as she lifted her arms, or tried to, a weight held her right arm down. A small smile spread across her face as she gazed at the sleeping features of her master. Memories of the violent attack slowly being replaced by how she ended up in her current arrangement as she idly stroked his hair.


	3. Flashback and Backlash

Every fiber of her being screamed in pain as she began to stir. The bed she lay on was illuminated by a single ray of sunlight from a window high in the stone room, the warmth splashing her face. Arilea cringed, throwing up her arms to block the light as memories of what happened flooded her mind. Groaning as she lifted her arms, or tried to, a weight held her right arm down. A small smile spread across her face as she gazed at the sleeping features of her master. Memories of the violent attack slowly being replaced by how she ended up in her current arrangement as she idly stroked his hair.

* * *

"Glory of the Sun" was Arilea's mother's and father's small tailoring shop in Silvermoon City, and it was reasonably successful, for her mother and father managed to keep their four children clothed and fed, yet the family of six wasn't without it's troubles. Being the second oldest of the children, only she and her older brother knew of the gambling problems their father had. Once in a while he would come home bruised and battered, sometimes to mere inches of his life. Deep in depression, many of the nights he passed with a bottle in hand. Arilea had soon found out that the slightest mistake she made was met with a swift hand, or anything close enough to strike her with.

"FARREN!" called a man slamming on the front door of their house, "FARREN! Your debt is due!" The day the collector for one of the many nobles he owed came, Arilea thought it was her way out of the pain. Panic flooded Farren's mind as the collector pounded at the door of his house. "I have no gold left", he mused to himself, pacing back and fourth. "What would they take instead of gold" the thoughts rushed through his mind. Cloth? No. the only thing of worth in the shop were gold blood robes, and not even a noble was cocky enough to take such items from the warlocks they were crafted for.

"FARREN!" The door screamed in protest as the man kicked it, a small ax readied in his hand. "Come out Farren! Let's get this done quick. You're a tailor, you don't need your foot.

"Wait!" her father called out from the next room. "I think... I think I have something worth more than what I owe to your employer", he had the look of a maniac as he walked into the room, dragging his daughter behind by the arm. "Take her" he grunted as he pushed her into the man, "Ossius can find a use for her I'm sure". With that the man grunted and pulled her outside her home to a waiting carriage, and shoved her inside. Arilea watched the house she had grown in shrink into the background, her father turning his back on her and closing the door... Not looking back once.

The Noble's house was an hour ride by carriage from the gates of Silvermoon, and not long into the journey did the sky open up, torrents of rain chilling the travelers to the bone. Arilea reached the manor battered and bruised, tears spilling from her eyes as she fought to keep from shivering.. The door opened and her new master greeted the crying slave with a backhand, forceful enough to knock her into the mud. The magister picked lifted the whimpering slave out of the mud by the front of her soaked blouse. "So this is how Farren pays his debt? Be giving me his daughter?"

That was exactly 3 months before the night she was fated to meet Forlorne.

Some time later that day, in the woods...

He jumped back, narrowly avoiding the slash made at his unprotected stomach. "Shit" he cursed under his breath, taking a few steps back from the two paladins he had encountered while hunting. They weren't very experienced, but still dangerous to the unarmed rogue. "For the Horde!" one of the paladins yelled as he rushed forward, his sword readied for a thrust.

You don't want to do this", Forlorne called out as he sidestepped the blade. "You think that killing an unarmed man will bring you honor in the eyes of the Horde? The orcs value battle, not slaughter." He spoke fluently in Thalassian, hoping the point would get across. The hopes of a peaceful resolution were dashed when the second paladin began laughing.

"Do you really believe that killing you will be about bringing honor to the Horde? How foolish you humans are. This is just a way to get rid of the boredom. You see, here in Tirisfal, there is nothing enjoyable to do... Aside from this." his lips forming into a sadistic grin. For a moment Forlorne took his eyes off the first paladin, a moment was all that was needed for the blade to find his side. Holy energy stolen from the Naaru Mu'ru burned the flesh, and the dull blade bit into his midsection.

The attacker withdrew his bloodied blade, pacing back and forth, eyes locked on the wounded human that was trying to back away from him. "Is this all? Not even a fight to save your pathetic life? Hmmmf. Only a few moments of fun from this one it seems brother." The second elf snorted to the first, drawing his sword and slowly walking around to the side of their target, flanking the wounded prey.

"No wonder your women are always found in the beds of other races. With males as incompetent and overconfident as you, it's the only place they can find any sort of satisfaction." Forlorne muttered under his breath, moving his hand away from the wound on his side, and standing straight and defiant.

'What did you say you filthy cave dweller?" spat one of the elves, his emerald eyes visibly flaring with anger.

"I said," he flipped a purple gem into the air, the sunlight catching it's faceted surface, "Let none survive." The air behind him shimmered for a moment, a second later a rift formed. From it stepped a Fel Guard, a massive arcanite reaper held in one hand. "A paltry task" it's deep voice rumbled as it charged the closest elf. The demon's first strike shattered the paladin's sword as he tried to parry, fragments of copper striking the wielder in the eyes, blinding him. An agonizing scream echoed through the forest, reverberating through the woods even after a mighty cleave left the source in two vertical halves. Hefting the bloody axe over it's shoulder the demon slowly walked back to the side of it's master, it's eyes locked on the slack jawed blood elf.

"So you believe me to have no fight left? Not worth but a moment of amusement?" A wall of green fire surrounded the warlock for a moment before dropping. Standing there was the same human, no longer unarmed or armored. Now there stood a warlock clad in robes designed for battle, dark blue runes running across the surface, a pit dark as the Void itself, large shoulders adorned with spikes floating above the surface, lightning arcing between them. Another rift formed at his feet, a red crystal spire slowly floating upwards, a staff made for war, it's long handle coated with a layer of frost.

"Wh-who are you?" the first paladin stammered as he back pedaled away from the demon and master, his sword raised in a defensive manner.

The warlock raised his hand, shadows swirling and condensing into a dense ball, hovering above his palm.

"Who I am no longer concerns you.." he spoke calmly. With that he extended his hand forward, the black orb shooting forth and crushing the paladin's chest inward, his dying gasps for air silenced as the demon's axe severed his head.

"Is that all you require Master?" the fel guard questioned gruffly, his small head turning towards the human.

"No, pick up the deer, and follow me. We are returning to the town." he motioned to the animal lying near the edge of the clearing, the entire reason that he was in the woods. "My apprentice is waiting for my return."

"You have taken another apprentice?" a hint of curiosity in the demon's voice, "Even after the fel blood traitor?

"Yes. I took another one after her.", he leaned against a tree, watching the demon heft the large buck with one hand. How are the others?"

With the lifeless buck over one shoulder, and the axe slung over the other. the fel guard followed his master down the forest path. "Haathgron has waited tirelessly for your next command to come. A prime example of a voidwalker that one is, except for his new interests."

"New interests? Like what?" he asked over his shoulder after ducking below a tree branch.

"Finger painting."

The warlock stopped for a moment, perplexed. "Are you telling me that my voidwalker... Finger paints? A demon that lives for the destruction of life, finger paints?" The Fel guard simply nodded in response. "Where does he get the paint from, I can't imagine there are many arts and crafts stores in the Nether."

"Nazantia and I have pondered the same thing every time he shows us another painting. Brown I could understand, but, I don't think voidwalkers can do that. Can they?"

"Hell if I know." Forlorne shook his head, trying to get the image out of his mind, "What about Dagtal and Sruudym?"

"Dagtal found your engineering supplies about a year ago, finally broke the lock a few months ago."

"And?"

"He has been harassing your fel hunter with explosives ever since"

The warlock blinked as he stepped past the tree line, "I really should have expected that." He took in the sight of the small town nestled in the woods. "Welcome to Ascalon." he told the demon following him as they began to walk down the street, nodding his head in greeting to the mixed races of the Horde and the Alliance. After turning down several streets, they entered what appeared to be the remains of a church. Forlorne paused before a pair of large stained glass windows, one dedicated to the Light, the other to the Forgotten Shadow.

"A town where the humans of Tirisfal and the Forsaken live in peace with one another, it has become a small town for all who are avoiding the pointless war between the Alliance and the Horde." a robed man stepped from the shadows, his robes stained with blood of men and women wounded in battle. "Master Forlorne" he began, then took a look at the robes the other man wore, "Or shall I call you Morgrid now? It must have taken something impressive to force you to return to using Fel magics."

"It was a choice I had to make." Morgrid sighed. "Is my apprentice still upstairs?" The priest nodded. "Thank you Father."

The deer was left in the kitchen to be prepared later, quietly the warlock and demon made their way up the stairs, to the door of the room he shared with Arilea. With a creak of protest it opened, and he looked in at the sight of a group a masked children dog piled on a figure lying in bed. Their heads turned to the door in unison, unblinking at the demon at the door.

"MISTER MORGRID!" the children yelled and pounced from the bed. "SHAGHUUN!" The children jumped on the demon, clinging to him like a large stuffed animal. Shaghuun stood there, still as a statue as the children climbed over him. From the bed a blood elf watched, amusement and worry crossing her face.

"Master?"

"Yes Arilea, it is me" he spoke quietly, barely heard over the sound of the children playing on the demon. "I have much to explain my Apprentice."


	4. Shameless Bump!

I fixed some of the other chapters, made it less choppy. New chapters up soon! Thanks for reading


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